The Most Preventable Crime? BAD PARENTING

On a very hot summer day years ago I met my Future X on the corners of 43rd and 9th in NYC. After a month together I was invited to move in with her, and insistently given a budget of 3K per month to live on (something totally new and exciting to me). She suggestd we go meet "Ima" (Mother) in Tel Aviv. First morning there she told me she was pregnant and staying in Israel. in order to not lose out on fatherhood (for which I had oh so long hoped to become), I begrudgingly moved to Israel and married her in a large Israeli wedding, a ceremony filled with generals and high ranking politicians and billionaires, non whom I knew or knew me. Or, as would soon enough turn out, even want to know me.The night before the wedding my Future ex mother-in-law gave me, and it was oddly the only present I received for a marriage with over 200 very well to do wedding guests), a Picasso."Pablo gave this to my father" she said, handing it to me. Her "father" being a deceased, world famous man who had been Knighted by the Queen of England and been Prime Minister Wilson's go to man for his expertise in finance. My future ex-' grandfather, a prominent member of a very prominent family dating back to the 1400's. An astounding collection of financial and intellectual genius who have been written as "..equal to and sometimes surpassing the Rothchilds.."
The X-Mo (as I have long referred to her as) then handed me a scrolled up canvas tied with white string. I took it as a wedding present and, left it on the wall of our house in Afeka, a suburb of Tel Aviv. A year later I would move out. But not with my Picasso.  The X-mo, as I called her, had taken it back as as a Prelude to War: A Declaration of  Divorce, to be followed by 40 plus court appearances in four countries over the course of 15 years. A battle that left me broke and bloodied, but not bowed...

On a very hot summer day years ago I met my Future X on the corners of 43rd and 9th in NYC. After a month together I was invited to move in with her, and insistently given a budget of 3K per month to live on (something totally new and exciting to me). She suggestd we go meet "Ima" (Mother) in Tel Aviv. First morning there she told me she was pregnant and staying in Israel. in order to not lose out on fatherhood (for which I had oh so long hoped to become), I begrudgingly moved to Israel and married her in a large Israeli wedding, a ceremony filled with generals and high ranking politicians and billionaires, non whom I knew or knew me. Or, as would soon enough turn out, even want to know me.The night before the wedding my Future ex mother-in-law gave me, and it was oddly the only present I received for a marriage with over 200 very well to do wedding guests), a Picasso."Pablo gave this to my father" she said, handing it to me. Her "father" being a deceased, world famous man who had been Knighted by the Queen of England and been Prime Minister Wilson's go to man for his expertise in finance. My future ex-' grandfather, a prominent member of a very prominent family dating back to the 1400's. An astounding collection of financial and intellectual genius who have been written as "..equal to and sometimes surpassing the Rothchilds.."
The X-Mo (as I have long referred to her as) then handed me a scrolled up canvas tied with white string. I took it as a wedding present and, left it on the wall of our house in Afeka, a suburb of Tel Aviv. A year later I would move out. But not with my Picasso.  The X-mo, as I called her, had taken it back as as a Prelude to War: A Declaration of  Divorce, to be followed by 40 plus court appearances in four countries over the course of 15 years. A battle that left me broke and bloodied, but not bowed...

On a very hot summer day years ago I met my Future X on the corners of 43rd and 9th in NYC. After a month together I was invited to move in with her, and insistently given a budget of 3K per month to live on (something totally new and exciting to me). She suggestd we go meet "Ima" (Mother) in Tel Aviv. First morning there she told me she was pregnant and staying in Israel. in order to not lose out on fatherhood (for which I had oh so long hoped to become), I begrudgingly moved to Israel and married her in a large Israeli wedding, a ceremony filled with generals and high ranking politicians and billionaires, non whom I knew or knew me. Or, as would soon enough turn out, even want to know me.The night before the wedding my Future ex mother-in-law gave me, and it was oddly the only present I received for a marriage with over 200 very well to do wedding guests), a Picasso."Pablo gave this to my father" she said, handing it to me. Her "father" being a deceased, world famous man who had been Knighted by the Queen of England and been Prime Minister Wilson's go to man for his expertise in finance. My future ex-' grandfather, a prominent member of a very prominent family dating back to the 1400's. An astounding collection of financial and intellectual genius who have been written as "..equal to and sometimes surpassing the Rothchilds.."
The X-Mo (as I have long referred to her as) then handed me a scrolled up canvas tied with white string. I took it as a wedding present and, left it on the wall of our house in Afeka, a suburb of Tel Aviv. A year later I would move out. But not with my Picasso.  The X-mo, as I called her, had taken it back as as a Prelude to War: A Declaration of  Divorce, to be followed by 40 plus court appearances in four countries over the course of 15 years. A battle that left me broke and bloodied, but not bowed...

"NOT FOR 13 MILLION DOLLARS!!!"  ..I yelled at the little man with the huge forehead who was trying to engage me in an auction for my children. Disgusted and pissed off at his nerve and what seemed to me a perversion, I gazed out the ritzy beach front Tel Aviv hotel lobby window overlooking the deeply polluted azure Mediterranean Sea and tried to stay calm.He was a proudly gay and phenomenally accomplished man, a polylingual top of his class lawyer out of Yale, back when that truly meant something. An intellectual of the highest order whose sole job in life was to protect  my ex-wife and her family's vast, ancient fortune..A job he did very well. So good at his job that, when all was said and done, he had also managed to take my very small and minuscule fortune, leaving me virtually penniless in a rather unforgiving Middle Eastern Land: ..ending up Homeless and Thieving, for a while, just to stay alive in Israel...But through it all, I did stay a father, never missing a visit, never missing a call...

"NOT FOR 13 MILLION DOLLARS!!!"  ..I yelled at the little man with the huge forehead who was trying to engage me in an auction for my children. Disgusted and pissed off at his nerve and what seemed to me a perversion, I gazed out the ritzy beach front Tel Aviv hotel lobby window overlooking the deeply polluted azure Mediterranean Sea and tried to stay calm.He was a proudly gay and phenomenally accomplished man, a polylingual top of his class lawyer out of Yale, back when that truly meant something. An intellectual of the highest order whose sole job in life was to protect  my ex-wife and her family's vast, ancient fortune..A job he did very well. So good at his job that, when all was said and done, he had also managed to take my very small and minuscule fortune, leaving me virtually penniless in a rather unforgiving Middle Eastern Land: ..ending up Homeless and Thieving, for a while, just to stay alive in Israel...But through it all, I did stay a father, never missing a visit, never missing a call...

On a very hot summer day years ago I met my Future X on the corners of 43rd and 9th in NYC. After a month together I was invited to move in with her, and insistently given a budget of 3K per month to live on (something totally new and exciting to me). She suggestd we go meet "Ima" (Mother) in Tel Aviv. First morning there she told me she was pregnant and staying in Israel. in order to not lose out on fatherhood (for which I had oh so long hoped to become), I begrudgingly moved to Israel and married her in a large Israeli wedding, a ceremony filled with generals and high ranking politicians and billionaires, non whom I knew or knew me. Or, as would soon enough turn out, even want to know me.

The night before the wedding my Future ex mother-in-law gave me, and it was oddly the only present I received for a marriage with over 200 very well to do wedding guests), a Picasso.

"Pablo gave this to my father" she said, handing it to me. Her "father" being a deceased, world famous man who had been Knighted by the Queen of England and been Prime Minister Wilson's go to man for his expertise in finance. My future ex-' grandfather, a prominent member of a very prominent family dating back to the 1400's. An astounding collection of financial and intellectual genius who have been written as "..equal to and sometimes surpassing the Rothchilds.."

The X-Mo (as I have long referred to her as) then handed me a scrolled up canvas tied with white string. I took it as a wedding present and, left it on the wall of our house in Afeka, a suburb of Tel Aviv. 

A year later I would move out. But not with my Picasso.  The X-mo, as I called her, had taken it back as as a Prelude to War: A Declaration of  Divorce, to be followed by 40 plus court appearances in four countries over the course of 15 years. A battle that left me broke and bloodied, but not bowed...

After 40 plus times in Family & Criminal Court (always by myself), 6 solo international moves (always solo(, living in a country that seemed perpetually at war and did not respect me (at least not legally), and having to often steal to make ends meet, after 19 years I'd had enough. It was either win, or die. 

In this chapter of "19 Years A Prisoner of Zion" I give the lowdown on how I actually planned a murder: the how to, the weapon, the location, the cover...Foolproof? I was never fool enough to believe that. But I'd been shit upon for far far too long and I couldn't think of a worse place to live (for me)...

...buy the book and see what happened...

In which I talk about how, after 19 years spent "..crawling through a river of shit.." 

I finally escaped Israel to my old home turf in Monterey, California...  

And I, like "Andy Dufresne, headed to the Pacific.." but my old home had changed after two decades ..instead of a small paradise where the forest met the sea, I found a new entity, an ugly reincarnation that sadly no longer bore a resemblance to the Zihuatanejo I had long remembered... 

..nor had I, as I long hoped, "..come out clean on the other side."  

I've long seen a correlation between "Shawshank Redemption" and my time in Israel. Much like Andy Dufresne, it took me 19 years to escape the hell I had been wrongly sentenced to.

An experience I’ve long likened to something akin to a perpetually slow ass rape.

19 years ...and California, my long lost paradise, had devolved into a profoundly third-world shit hole ..a place so devoid of brotherly love I soon came to think of it as "Lawless Cartelifornia"..

My tumultuous 30+ year friendship with Legendary Comedian Charlie Hill, Oneida Indian and Spokesman for a Generation:

..wherein I hope to provide personal insights into a hostile and profoundly humanistic world...

*******

Long knowing my plight of  having to live in Israel just to be with my children, Charlie said:

"Just write about your life. That is what's interesting."

So I did.

To Be Published*

In 2003, the "2nd Intifada" broke out in Israel, and my ex took off with the kids to Scotland. I followed.

Which is how I became a stand up. I tried to become a Cab Driver. ..but I was deemed AN ILLEGAL by the  British Government and couldn't get a license  (despite my living there as a boy (took the 11+), my mother being British and she having served in the British Army as a cook during WWII, where she met my father in a London pub, who was killing time while he waited for word from the U.S. Army to cross at Normandy (which he did) and invade Europe (which they did))..

Doing Stand Up comedy, fortunately allowed me the ability to use unlimited pseudonyms (which I did), and to make a living steeped in anonymity. With a  lifetime of "Class Clown" behavior and, as highly trained professional actor, and being "..a Yank.." I quickly found regular work.

I performed Stand Up Comedy approximately 86 times during my three years stuck in the UK, trying to stay a Dad.

I was  shortlisted by the BBC as one of the UK's "Top New Comedians." I also had to turn down being on television twice as I was not/and could not/ become a UK citizen.

  I had previously attended The Comedy Store on Sunset Blvd. in Los Angeles for over 15 years with my Comedian Buddy Charlie Hill (acting solely as his chauffeur). This led to meeting & knowing some of the very top comedians in the business, from Robin Williams and Sam Kinison on down. An experience that gave me access to dozens of lesser known comedians, to talk to them offstage and to learn by watching their acts and club activities. These scores of visits over twenty odd years to one of the most famous comedy clubs in America left me extremely well versed in most things Stand Up.

"So You Think You're Funny": An A to Z filled with personal insights on how to become and prosper as a Stand Up Comedian;

***

"Coming Soon!"

(that's what my ex used to say but she was a liar)

22 original monologues taken from a few of my full length original plays:

"Do You Or Don't You";

"The Riots Are Coming"

"A Symphony of Chaos" (with song)

"Pilgrims & Farmers"

"Too California"

 ...along with 22 tips gleaned from my over 1,000 live performances, 40 plus speaking roles in television and film around the world, my studies with 33 different acting teachers and my own 12 years of teaching acting and theatre games in Los Angeles, New York, Harlem, Edinburgh and Tel Aviv.

To Be Published*

A BBC Radio Play based on my real-life struggles to be with my children in the UK (this after the X unilaterally took off from our home in NYC, going to Israel, then to England, then back to Israel and then, to Edinburgh and Tollcross, Scotland ..where I began a three year career as a Stand Up Comedian/Journalist using a multitude of pseudonyms (using the nom de plume "Sam Kennewick" in the above article) to earn money and stay in the country near my kids...

(..and yes, after the last 3 years in Scotland the X went back, yet again, to Israel resulting in the saga of "19 Years a Prisoner of Zion" ...0 with a lot of jokes in-between...

 She was the New York Theatre Worshop's Dramaturg at the time.

Her 69th St. YMCA Playwriting class was going well, and I was her "discovery."

The theatre scheduled a reading of my first play "The Riots Are Coming."

But prior to the reading things began to change. She started to become distant..

I was told by Chiori not to kill off my main Black character because I was White and ..well it might be perceived as ...?
What kind of racism was that?

With no choice I did as told, and struggled to make up a contrived ending. It killed my play.

The reading was good, but it should have been much much better.

Afterwards, I went to NYTW on E. 4th Street. Chiori, while making copies, said to me:

"We'd do your play if you were Black or Hispanic, Sam ..too many White guys..."

To my face.

"Riots" was a finalist for a Jerome Fellowship but I ended up legally trapped in Israel.

Talk about twists of fate...º